Stolen
by Jacinda
Summary: Sara is abducted by a man obsessed with her -- it's CSI's job to find her. (NS)-- FIN
1. Default Chapter

"Inside, I have a surprise for you on the second floor," Brass said . . . sarcastically . . . I was beginning to think that it was the only emotion that he had ever known, "The kid is nineteen. He was taken down by an officer fifteen minutes ago . . . dead before the medics got here."

I followed him up the stairs . . . the scene on the landing was grizzly. The white wall was spattered with crimson and particulate distinctly composed of human skin and organs. I tried to hold back my gagging . . . I wasn't sure if I would ever get used to this. The kid's body . . . lay crumpled in a neat ball . . . a semi-automatic lay next to him . . . a black, shining island in a pool of crimson blood.

"Do your thing," Brass said as he stared at the body.

I pulled out my camera . . . this part of the job was automatic. I could separate myself from the crime victim if I looked at the scene through pictures . . . bordered by rulers . . . meticulous little frames that dehumanized the victim . . . turned their body into evidence. It was harder to get lost in a case when I broke it down into little pieces . . . getting lost in hair fibers and DNA was much less risky than getting lost in the world of a nineteen year old man.

He was a gangster . . . the gun . . . the hockey jersey . . . the New Jersey Devils . . . the baggy pants . . . brand new high top sneakers . . . coated in blood. His face looked much younger than his nineteen years . . . his looked like a child.

"Sara, you want me to go with the body to the morgue?" Nick asked . . . visibly startling me.

"You can take him . . . just give me five more minutes to take some pictures," I replied . . . trying to numb myself . . . so many times, I left myself feel for the victims . . . so many times I was hurt by those feelings . . . so many times I woke up with hangovers.

Nick disappeared as quickly as he came. Sometimes, I liked to work alone . . . I could go off into my little efficient world . . . begin to build the puzzles in my head. I waved in the medical examiners . . . they quickly bagged the body. The housing project was quiet . . . they were always quiet at two in the morning.

"I'm surprise you haven't asked yet," Brass commented as he squatted next to me . . . I was intently collecting fiber evidence . . . it was easy to find evidence on the cement floor.

"I haven't asked what?" I replied . . . annoyed that I was being taken away from my thoughts.

"About the boy. He threatened to shoot the officer . . . the kid just sold cocaine to the undercover officer that shot him. He's been selling to kids at the middle schools. Sara, how much longer are you going to be?" Brass asked . . . standing up.

"Go . . . I'll be done soon. I'll call you with whatever I find," I replied as I crawled on my knees . . . trying to make sure I had gotten everything . . . I could hear his footfalls fade. I was glad that Brass was gone . . . I was praying that these next few hours would fly by a little faster. I was more than ready to go home . . . my head pounding . . . my eyelids drooping.

"Stand up," I could feel something against the back of my head . . . I stood slowly my hands on my head . . . my gun pulled from the holster . . . I was gasping for air . . . they didn't have a good policy for this in any of the procedure books that I had ever read.

"Hands down, behind your back," the man didn't yell . . . it was a harsh whisper in my ear . . . a hoarse voice . . . his breath putrid . . . making my stomach turn, "I don't like cops."

"I'm not a cop," I whispered . . . the gun still pushed into the back of my skull . . . tears crept into the corners of my eyes.

"Shut up," he pushed the gun harder into my skull, "Close your damn eyes . . . walk with me . . . I'm going to take you somewhere . . . somewhere where we can sit down and talk."

He bound my hands . . . pulled a hat over my eyes . . . dragging me along with him . . . the gun now shoved into my spine. I could see his face . . . nothing . . . no expression . . . no look of overwhelming fear. He ushered me into a black SUV . . . he opened the passenger door for me . . . pushed me in . . . it wouldn't look too out of place.

"Sara Sidle . . . you wouldn't believe how many years I waited for this," the man smiled, "Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?"

I began to feel sick.

* * *

"Warrick, is Sara back yet?" I asked . . . I had been waiting for her for over three hours . . . I couldn't imagine what was taking her so long . . . it was time to clock out.

"Nope, the only thing that I am going to be seeing is my bed?" Warrick said . . . as he clocked out . . . said something about having a date with his bed . . . told me he'd see me in fourteen hours . . . overtime . . . I personally hated it.

I yawned . . . dialed her cell phone . . . it rang endlessly before going to voice mail. It was out of character for her.

"Gris, have you talked to Sara since she left this morning?" I asked as I stood up from the table . . . that caught his attention . . . he walked into the breakroom.

"She isn't still out there, is she?" he asked . . . everything about Sara seemed to affect him so deeply.

"She's not answering her cell phone," I replied, "I'm going to go back to the projects."

"You want company?" Gris asked . . . fidgeting with the papers in his hands . . . it was still uncomfortable to be in the same room as him. He had written Sara and me up a few weeks ago . . . no inter-office relationships . . . it was new addition to our contract . . . it came right after the butterfly case . . . the girl that looked like Sara. It must have made him think . . . think about what he could have had . . . emotions seemed to scare him . . . he blunted him the best he knew how . . . to set guidelines preventing him from ever seeing Sara as an option. I thought Sara and I were alone . . . I kissed the back of her neck . . . rested my hands on her hips . . . she tried to shoo me off . . . turning around to face me . . . whispering something about 'big brother' always watching us . . . I kissed her . . . it had been a long day . . . emotional day . . . a child abuse case . . . struck a raw nerve with me. Kissing her was a comfort . . . going home with her every night was a bigger comfort. Grissom tended to have a different opinion.

I never intended to see Sara as nothing more than a coworker . . . it just happened. It started with breakfast one morning . . . it just blossomed with me moving into Sara's apartment. The things that Grissom couldn't control . . . the seasons, natural disasters, and Sara . . . it made him uncomfortable . . . he was used to being in control.

"No," I replied . . . probably too quickly.

"Let's go," Grissom said . . . I followed him to his Denali. The drive was uncomfortable . . . we didn't talk . . . there was nothing to talk about. I stared at the sun . . . I wanted to be at home in bed. Going home was the best part of the day . . . the way she would crawl right into bed . . . turn on the morning news . . . see if we made the morning news.

"Sara," I called out as I ran up the stairwell . . . her kit was still out . . . her gun on the floor . . . it was as though she just disappeared.


	2. Pretty Little Houses

"Brass, I need your ass down here now," Grissom yelled into his cell phone, "Nick, was the scene cleared . . . really cleared . . . when you went with the body back to the morgue?"

It was a stupid question . . . I would have never left Sara here if I thought something like this would happen.

"Yes, the scene was clear. Do I come off as some kind of moron?" I yelled back defensively . . . I knew what he was thinking . . . Holly Gribbs. That name hung over the lab like a black cloud . . . always managing to rear its ugly head some how . . . it was a curse . . . it made people hold guns to my head . . . people steal Sara. There wasn't a question in my mind . . . she was taken . . . she wouldn't run . . . not from what we were building. It hurt to think that she would . . . I pushed that possibility out of my head . . . the evidence . . . it would lead us in the right direction.

"Nick, go home," Grissom yelled back . . . I couldn't remember the last time I saw him lose his cool . . . this very well could have been the first time. The veins in his neck bulged . . . his skin turning an ugly red . . . his hands shaking . . . four years of emotion.

"I'm staying," I replied . . . I opened my kit . . . pulled on my latex gloves . . . popped the cartridge out of Sara's gun. All the bullets were accounted for . . . I put them into an evidence bag . . . put the gun into another. The floor was clean . . . Sara was meticulous . . . she never left a morsel of evidence behind. She had a good eye.

"Gil, what the hell is going on?" Catherine said . . . as she trudged up the stairs . . . her kit in hand.

"Sara's gone. Brass left her at the scene alone," I replied before Grissom could get any of the words out of his mouth.

"Jesus. Let's get this area roped off. What do you have?" Catherine replied . . . she set her kit down . . . pulled on her latex gloves . . . joined me on the floor.

"I have nothing . . . it's been picked clean. It's all in evidence bags," I replied . . . trying my hardest to focus . . . I was keenly aware that this was probably the only way that I could help her now . . . the evidence. Science never lies.

"Well, it's good that there hasn't been high traffic through this area. What do you need me to do?" Catherine replied . . . looking between Grissom and I . . . not knowing who to listen to . . . the boyfriend or the boss.

"Help Nick. I'm going to go look into surveillance cameras," Grissom said . . . he walked away silently . . . never making eye contact with me . . . caught in his silent rage.

"Are you okay to do this, Nicky?" Catherine asked as she got her camera out . . . she was the least close to Sara . . . she was perfect to head up the investigation.

"Yeah, I don't want to have to go home alone this morning," I replied . . . she tried to smile . . . it was that 'poor guy' smile . . . I got that from people a lot. Sara didn't do that . . . she would say something ridiculous . . . make me laugh before she would give in to any desire to treat me as a 'pity case.'

I wanted her back.

* * *

"This is going to be our bedroom. What do you think? I painted it brick red . . . it's the same shade as in your apartment," the guy rambled . . . he lead me around the house . . . I was hand cuffed and shackled . . . I was a damn prisoner.

He obviously put a lot of time into stalking me . . . the paint . . . the linens on the bed . . . right down to pictures of me. Candid . . . photojournalistic . . . in any other circumstance, I would have been impressed. We were still in Vegas . . . that I was sure of . . . the ride was too short . . . a short thirty minutes from the housing project . . . we weren't any further than a suburb. The house was new . . . I could smell the damp, chemical scent of new carpet . . . its distinct aroma permeating my nasal passages . . . imprinting itself on my brain.

"It's nice . . . you know my name . . . could you tell me yours?" I asked . . . my voice audibly shaky . . . it was the first time that I had spoken to him since he forced me to leave the crime scene in his SUV.

"Glen. Sara, I want to make you breakfast . . . you must be hungry after working so hard. It must have been a rotten shift . . . with the gangster and all," Glen replied . . . as he guided me to the living room . . . laying me on the couch . . . propping me up.

"Could you uncuff me . . . I promise I won't run," I said . . . trying to be rational . . . trying to sound calm. His conversation was eerie . . . he talked like we had been married for years . . . for him it was easy . . . for me . . . it made me nauseated. I wondered how . . . and I wondered why.

"I can't, love. Not until you learn the rules . . . I will take care of you until you learn the rules," Glen replied . . . cupping my cheek in his hand . . . kissing my lower lip. My lip was trembling . . . the tears falling from my eyes . . . there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to get myself out of this one. I hoped Glen left something at the scene . . . any telltale sign.

I thought about Nick . . . I could picture him in the break room . . . my cell phone had rung at least eight times on the way here. Glen took it from my pocket . . . put it into his. My only means of communication was lost . . . it was stolen. Nick . . . I said his name in my head a million times . . . praying that he could hear me. I wasn't a woman of much faith . . . I tended to place most of my faith in science . . . science didn't lie, but I prayed for a miracle . . . that he could hear me. I prayed that he was looking for me . . . I wanted him to take me home. _I will do anything if you let Nick find me . . . I will give up anything . . . I will go to church . . . I will call my parents more often . . . I'll do anything. _

I imagined us at home . . . me tearing my clothes off . . . eagerly hopping into be to see if my 'abduction' made the morning new . . . I would make some sarcastic comment about it. Nick would pretend to be hurt, but he would jump into bed with me . . . I would sleep with my head on his chest . . . we did that every morning. I prayed that somehow . . . this morning could be the same.

"Nick, please take me home," I whispered . . . hoping Glen didn't hear me . . . he was in the kitchen making pancakes . . . I could smell the batter . . . it nauseated me . . . the possibilities of what the day would bring nauseated me . . . I threw up on the carpet in front of me.

"Please take me home," I whispered again as I began to gag.


	3. Family

Author's Note: I apologize for all the ellipses. I'm a student of Hemmingway and Jack Kerouac; a patron of stream of thought.

* * *

"He's sleeping in the break room. Gil, he's refusing to leave. You should say something . . . Gil, this is Nick . . . well, fine never mind," Catherine said as she drummed her fingers on the table. She had called Lindsey to make sure she was okay . . . the little things . . . the small things to be grateful for.

I had been sleeping when Catherine called me. She said that I needed to come to the lab . . . I had been sleeping for three hours . . . I wasn't about to get out of bed any time soon. Catherine said that it was Sara . . . the coolness in her voice . . . the slight tremble as she said Sara's name. I had heard that once before . . . Holly. Nick said that it was curse . . . I was beginning to believe him. I didn't believe in voodoo . . . the evil eye . . . that was my grandmother. I found such things silly . . . to believe without proof was foreign to me.

Nick moved like a zombie. He watched all the evidence being processed . . . refused to leave. Threw a coffee cup against the wall when I suggested that he go home for a while . . . I hadn't seen him this angry or lost since Kristy. I watched my friend pace the room . . . looking for something to occupy his hands. I knew why he couldn't go home . . . home was with Sara. I was one of the few that was privy to the secret . . . every one knew, but I had been let in on their secret romance. I watched Nick soften . . . the demons that he carried with him seemed to fade a little bit when they were together. Sara . . . Sara relaxed . . . she became this amazing funny woman when she was with Nick.

Grissom was the only person completely oblivious to the romance brewing in the lab. When he did begin to suspect the possibility of Sara finding comfort in another man, he began to change the rules of the universe. He wrote policy and procedure . . . enforced Sara and Nick's suspensions after he saw them 'acting like teenagers' in the locker room . . . after they had clocked out of work. Gris didn't notice that Sara and Nick came back from their suspension with sunburns . . . courtesy of a four day long weekend in San Francisco.

"Warrick, no hits on the DNA. Could you get me a pot of coffee for in the lab?" Greg asked . . . he was serious . . . no wit, no humor, no story about Papa Olaf.

"Yeah, man. Work on the prints on the gun . . . AFIS," I said trying to get the words out. I was so tired that I could barely think . . . let alone make intelligible sentences. Catherine echoed that remark . . . saying that it felt wrong to be in the lab, but it would feel worse to be at home doing nothing.

"Someone needs to call her parents," Catherine said. It was a job that I knew we would rather leave for Grissom. It was a job the Grissom would delegate . . . it was too personal this time. The girl that he pined for . . . the girl that admittedly was attracted to him was gone.

"You should take Nicky somewhere. He needs to get away from here," Catherine commented. I knew what that meant. The hours were precious and few . . . 24 . . . in twenty four hours Sara's case would go from a search to a recovery case. Nick didn't need to be here if and when her body rolled through these doors shrouded in a body bag. I didn't want to be here for that.

Nick whimpered in his sleep. He shot up . . . gasping for breath looking around disoriented . . . wondering why the hell he wasn't in bed with Sara. Catherine was so startled that she tipped over her coffee cup . . . choosing to comfort Nick rather than clean up the mess. I automatically reached for the paper toweling.

"Nicky, you need to go somewhere else. You can stay at my apartment. Linds is still with my sister . . . go back to my apartment and at least get something to eat," Catherine coaxed as she rubbed his back. Nick looked like a time bomb ready to explode . . . the fear, panic, and anger were setting in. I could see it in his eyes. He looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Nick, come to my apartment. You can rest there . . . it's closest to the crime lab," I offered. Nick looked at me like I was insane. His eyes screamed 'you expect me to abandon her case . . . leave the only place I might be useful.' I understood this look . . . I understood it well.

"I can't. I can't leave here without her . . . we drove her Denali today. I don't have the keys to her car," Nick said incoherently . . . overcome by the emotion of the situation. I hung my head . . . if the last few years hadn't destroyed him, this threatened to be the crushing blow. I watched Nick mature as a CSI . . . he truly loved his job . . . sometimes I didn't understand that. He came here so innocent . . . a degree in forensic science wasn't enough to harden a person . . . it was just a damn cool major for a science nerd. Nick hardened . . . every day he hardened a little more. I think I would have too if I had guns held in my face and I was attacked by a psycho.

"Nick, come home with me," I said once again. Nick looked at me like he couldn't quite comprehend what I was saying, "Nick, let's go get something to eat."

He nodded his head weakly. Looked at Catherine for approval . . . she smiled. Catherine said she would call with news . . . that Nick was in no way allowed to set foot in here for at least twenty-four hours. He nodded his head again. I was just happy to see him moving . . . I was terrified of the prospect of watching him for twenty-four hours. So much can change in twenty four hours.

* * *

"So you are saying that none of the security cameras work?" I parroted back to the security guard.

"This is a public housing building, Mr. Grissom. Not much around here works well," the security guard said as he sat back in an orange plastic rolling chair.

"Then what can you do to help me," I said getting more and more frustrated . . . Brass stood in the corner not saying anything.

"Sorry, Mr. Grissom. Crimes around here don't normally get solved. I don't get enough money from the government to turn this into the Palms," the security guard said sarcastically.

My cell phone was ringing. I had absolutely no desire to answer it. I stared at the caller ID screen. My heart leaped into my throat . . . I wasn't expecting to see Sara's cell phone number on the screen.

"Sara?" I said as I answered the telephone.

"I am safe. I'm being taken care of. Please stop looking for me. I don't want to . . . I don't want to," Sara said . . . I could hear here begin to gag . . . hear her vomiting. He monologue was obviously rehearsed.

"Sara, I'm going to find you," I whispered . . . I could feel my heart pounding against my chest wall. I was terrified that it would fly out.

"Gil, what is it?" Brass said finally walking forward.

"Please leave Sara and I alone . . . we are happy . . . we are a family," a man's voice said . . . the voice was soft. It had a gentle cadence. It was a voice that I never had heard before. It definitely wasn't Nick's voice. Nick didn't have it in him to do something like this. I cursed myself for even letting myself think that Nick could somehow be involved in this. Her phone hung up. I scrambled to dial the lab.

"Catherine, Sara just called my cell phone. Get in contact with the cell phone company find out what tower was being used," I said.

"Gil, is she okay?" Catherine asked.

"No, I don't think so," I replied . . . Brass hung his head. I knew how responsible he felt. The same way Warrick and I felt responsible for Holly.

"I'll call them. Gil, what do we do next?" Catherine asked.

"I don't know," I replied.

* * *

My dreams are filled with her face. When we were at the crime scene, Sara got into her zone . . . she lost herself in the evidence. Sara was normally good for that. She was analytical. She needed answers, but most of the answers she was looking for weren't at the crime scene.

Brass was there. He should know better. He always did get antsy come the end of his shift. Brass didn't live for the thrill. He rode the wave . . . where ever it took him. This all rested on his shoulders.

Even in my dreams, I can smell her perfume. I bought her the perfume. Sara said that it was sweet . . . no one had ever bought her perfume. The bold combination of orange blossom and jasmine . . . it seemed to fit her. The scent was all over her apartment. I was thankful that Warrick didn't take me there. I don't think I could have made it for more than seconds before I broke down. No one needed to see me like that . . . Sara was the only one who had seen me crumble. I had left so much build up inside me . . . Nigel Crane. He managed to bring all of that out of me. He left me broken; Sara carefully helped me put myself back together.

Sara knew about the nightmares . . . the horrible pictures that illuminated my mind. Sara knew the secrets that I worked so hard to hide from everyone including myself. She was patient. Always there with arms to wrap around me . . . lips to say that it wasn't my fault. It was the sweetest love that I could ever imagine.

My cell phone startled me out of sleep. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I answered it any way . . . praying that maybe this was a joke. I hoped that Sara was at home wondering where the hell I was.

"Stokes," I said . . . I barely recognized my voice.

"Nicky," Sara whispered. Her whisper sent chills down my spine. I was thankful that she was still alive.

"Sara, where are you?" I asked.

"Nicky, oh God, Nicky," Sara said. I could hear her crying. I could hear the distinct click of a gun being loaded.

"Sara, you gotta tell me where you are. I'll come get you," I replied . . . the tears falling down my cheeks. I heard her gasp.

"Please don't look for me. I'm being taken care of, Nicky." I could hear Sara struggling to talk through the tears. It was obvious that someone was making her do this . . . say these hurtful things.

"Sara, I love you. I'm not going to stop looking," I replied. I could hear Sara choking on her sobs. Her breathing was labored. The line went dead. I stood up disoriented . . . I rarely went to Warrick's apartment.

"Warrick, we need to go to the lab. Sara called me. Someone . . . someone was making her say that she didn't want to be found," I rambled as I grabbed my vest . . . collected my kit.

"Whoa, wait. Are you sure it was her?" Warrick asked. I knew the look on his face. He was too scared to be hopeful.

"It was her. If you won't drive me, I'll walk," I threatened. Warrick grabbed his car keys and we were out the door.

I knew that hope was a dangerous thing. It made you believe in things that often are too far removed from reality. But without Sara . . . reality wasn't worth living.


	4. Going Home

"Alex, this is Nick Stokes from the crime lab in Las Vegas. Could you give me a call? I have a case I'd like you to look at," I said . . . I was sitting at the break room table. Her GPS had been turned off. It was my nightmare. We could have at least tracked her. Warrick said he would keep her GPS profile up on the computer in the off chance her phone was turned on again. It was the best that we could do while the cell phone company was trying to figure out what tower routed Sara's calls.

My cell phone was on the table. I watched it . . . I counted the minutes until Alex called. It was the last of my ideas. I was reaching . . . reaching for about anything. Grissom wouldn't like Alex. This I was sure of. Grissom had slowly assumed this case. Catherine said that there was an air of obsession. His obsession was my girlfriend. I always thought of Grissom as a friend. Sometimes, he was my confidant. I trusted him, but I knew that I couldn't trust him with Sara. The way he looked at her in the morning when he was handing out assignments. The loud, brash ringing of my cell phone drew me from my thoughts.

"Stokes," I said as I answered my cell phone.

"Nick, it's Allie. What case do you have for me?" Alex said. She sounded exhausted.

"Allie, I have a missing woman. She's still alive. I need to figure out who would have taken her. I need to do it fast," I said. I wasn't sure if Alex would take the case if she knew how personal it was. Alex was a pro . . . she didn't mince words. She was a lot like a kinder, gentler Grissom.

"Nick, I'll be on the next flight. You'll pick me up from the airport?" Allie asked. She sounded intrigued.

"Allie, I don't know how to thank you," I said.

"Nick, you don't have to pretend. I know about the case. It's been on the news . . . the amber alert signs. Vegas isn't as isolated from LA like you want to think it is. I'll bring your CSI home," Allie replied. Intuitive. It was the only way to truly describe Alexandra Winters. I met her at a conference two years ago. Criminal profiler extraordinaire. Allie did have the track record to back that title up. She came up to me after my presentation of a case that I solved solely on fiber evidence. Allie said that she could have solved it faster by giving me a profile of the likely suspects. I asked her if she was a gambling woman. She replied that was for Vegas . . . she was always right . . . it wasn't a matter of luck or chance. Allie slipped her card into my pocket. She said to call her sometime. I did . . . I called her hotel room twenty minutes later to ask her to have drinks with me. Today, I called her again. This time was solely out of necessity, not out of fun or a friendly challenge.

"Allie, call me when your plane lands," I said.

"Nick, I hope your girlfriend is okay," Allie said.

"How do you know these things?" I asked.

"Inflections in your voice. The way you won't say her name. The way you called me out of desperation. Nick, you aren't that hard to figure out. I'll see you in a few hours," Allie said as she hung up the telephone.

Now, I had to resume the waiting game.

* * *

"Catherine, who's that in the evidence room with Nick?" I asked. I watched the two work together. There was an intensity and urgency there that I had never seen in his eyes. She was talking the entire time. She wrote catch phrases on the glass windows with a dry erase board pen. She was a profiler.

"Alex Winters. She flew in from LA. Nick knows her from a conference he went to," Catherine replied. I knew that she didn't want to be the one to give me the news. This was my lab . . . this was my case. He didn't have the authority to take that away from me. I walked away from Catherine. I left her in the wake of my anger.

"Nick, could I speak to you for a minute?" I grumbled as I walked into the evidence room. I hadn't noticed that Greg was in there too. He was showing Alex the chemical profile of some of the dust found at the crime scene.

"Gil Grissom. This is Dr. Alexandra Winter. She's a profiler from LA," Nick said. He ignored the question I asked him. It was more of a command than a question. He refused to hear it.

"Call me Alex. I've heard a lot about you from Nick," Alex said. The expression on her face told the whole story. She had heard a lot of not so good information about me. I shook her hand. I was irate.

"Nick, outside now," I commanded barely able to hold me tongue until we got out in the hallway, "This is my case. I expect at least a little respect from you. We aren't competing to see who can get Sara home first."

"Alex is the best. She's doing me a favor by examining the case. She can at least provide us with some suspects. I don't see you interviewing anyone," Nick replied defensively.

"Who's paying for your profiler?" I asked. I knew that I was defeated. I toyed with the idea of a profiler, but I wanted to believe that the evidence held the answers. In this case, the scene was clean. There was no evidence to recount the last ten hours.

"I am. I don't expect you to," Nick replied.

"What does that mean?" I asked confused.

"I'm doing this for my girlfriend. I'm not doing this because it's my job. I'm doing this for all the right reasons. I'm not trying to be some pseudo-hero. I'm just trying to bring Sara home," Nick said as he walked back into the evidence room.

I watched Alex hand him a cup of coffee. Warrick had joined their private party. I watched Warrick copy down her window scribblings on to paper.

"You know we should just suck it up and go in there and listen to her," Catherine commented. I knew it wasn't her nature to believe in people. Her husband had let her down. I let her down more than once.

"Maybe. I'm running out of ideas. I'm not too keen on waiting for another telephone call," I replied.

"Gris, work with him not against him," Catherine said as she put a hand on my shoulder, "I've read about Dr. Winters."

"She's the best. She's solved cases that I couldn't bring to court with the evidence," I replied.

* * *

"Brass and Stokes, tell me about the scene as you first came up on to it," I said.

"Nineteen year old shot twice in the chest and abdomen on the landing of a public housing building," Nick said as we rehashed the case for the fourth time. This time everyone decided to show up to help.

"Was there anything remarkable about the scene?" I asked.

"Pretty standard police shooting," Brass replied.

"Did your office radio in the events in real time?" I asked Brass.

"It's standard procedure," Brass began.

"That doesn't mean that it happened. Did your officer radio in the events?" I asked again. I had barely anything to work with. The scene was clean. The calls weren't easy to trace. My head was pounding. I was starving.

"He did," Brass replied. He was irritated with my questions. I could see it in his eyes.

"Did your officer also radio in the CSIs on the scene?" I asked.

"He did. We keep it in the file. In this case, IA always wants to know who to interview," Brass replied.

"Well, that's how he figured out that Sara was there. Vegas scrambles their police frequency don't they?" I asked. It was the little piece that I needed . . . something to begin to bring all these loose ends together.

"They have for years," Grissom replied. He had been nearly silent the entire time. He offered so little information. My supervisor in LA knew of Grissom. He was a legend in the forensic science circles. My supervisor warned me to step lightly . . . get in and get the hell out.

"Okay, he's techno savvy. He's familiar with the system. Greg, make a few calls for me," I said.

"What do you need, Allie?" Greg asked as he stood up. He was on his third pot of coffee, but he said that he wanted to stay.

"Call Radio Shack, Best Buy, Military Wholesale . . . any place that might sell devices to unscramble frequencies. Get me two years worth of sales," I replied. I rubbed my eyes.

"In just Vegas?" Greg asked. He knew how big of a job that this was going to be.

"Abductors work where they are comfortable. He's probably been in Vegas for years. He knows the streets. He doesn't stick out. Just Vegas, Greg," I replied.

"Warrick, you said that Sara didn't discharge her gun. The prints on the safety and barrel aren't hers?" I asked to clarify.

"Yeh," Warrick replied . . . he was working on a liter bottle of Mountain Dew. His eyes were bleary. He answered slowly.

"He brought his own. That's how he got her to go with him. Okay, this makes sense. He walks up behind Sara while she is finishing up. He puts a gun to her head . . . pulls her gun out of the holster. He drops it on the ground. Sara wouldn't just walk with him . . . she had to have been bound somehow. Catherine, have you dusted the duct tape in Sara's kit?" I asked. I had the scene playing in my head. I looked at Nick. He did too. I could see it in his eyes. It was something horrible to imagine. It gave me the chills. Every case gave me the chills.

"No, I hadn't thought of that," Catherine said as she disappeared. It was just Grissom, Warrick, Nick and I. I had sent everyone else away to work.

"The telephone calls. Grissom, the male called him and Sara a family?" I asked.

"He did," Grissom replied.

"He's studied her. He's probably studied her for at least a year. He's comfortable with the idea of her. He knows her schedule. Nick, what floor is her apartment on? Does it face another building?"

"Fifth floor. Her living room window faces the adjacent building," Nick offered.

"Okay, Warrick. I need the names of everyone that is currently living on the fourth, fifth, and sixth floor of both her building and the adjacent building," I replied . . . I rubbed my temples.

"What else should I know about Sara? Personal things. Mannerisms. How would Sara leave us evidence?"

"AA. She always goes to the same location . . . same day of the week. The meetings fit into her schedule pretty well," Nick replied.

"Grissom, get the names of the regular attendees," I said. Grissom looked at me funny before leaving the room. I had commandeered his ship. He was taking it well . . . on the outside.

"What do we do, Allie?" Nick asked.

"Take me to the crime scene," I asked him. He visibly shuddered that my request.

"Allie, I don't know if I can be there," Nick replied softly. His words were so soft that they were barely audible.

"I need to see it. You can stay in the car. I just need to see it. I have a profile in my mind, but I need to see if my theory is at all probable," I explained. I massaged his shoulders . . . hard as rocks, "Nick, we can do this. We can bring her home."

"Allie, she needs to come home," Nick whispered. He was shaking. I knew that he was crying . . . I rested my hands on his shoulders. Sometimes, I thought that I knew too much about mannerisms; too little about emotion.

"Nick, I'll bring her home," I whispered. It was a reply that I knew was against my better judgment.

* * *

Alex was gentle with him. I watched her rest her hands on his shoulders . . . letting him get out the emotion that he had been hiding since early this morning. Alex was on the ball . . . pointing us in directions that I hadn't yet considered. I could see her brain working on the case. Her green eyes were incredibly expressive . . . she had something in the brain of hers. She was just waiting to see if the evidence would corroborate it. She was doing something I couldn't do right now . . . she was being the leader.

"Gil, the prints on the duct tape match the mystery prints on the gun," Catherine said as she sat across from me, "How are you doing?"

"Cat, why didn't I see these things?" I asked.

"You are seeing Sara . . . not the evidence. It wasn't wise for us to even take the case. We are too involved. Nick was right to call in Alex," Catherine said. I could see the tears brimming in her eyes, "Gil . . . it's okay to feel something. It's okay to be sad."

"Cat, what if we don't find her?" I asked.

"I don't know," Catherine replied . . . she hung her head. She started to shake. I stood up . . . walked around my desk to where she was. I put my arms around her . . . she stood up and hugged me. I kissed her forehead.

* * *

I watched her walk the crime scene. She studied every little angle. They had unsecured the scene hours ago.

"Nick, did they print the stairwell . . . the railings?" Alex asked.

"Catherine did. There were too many prints. Most of them were smudged beyond recognition," I replied.

"Damn," Alex whispered, "Walk the street with me."

Alex took my hand . . . guiding me away from the scene. She tried to get me to focus. She told me to stop thinking about the 'what ifs.' She said that right now that was all irrelevant. We walked the perimeter of the building. I watched her look for anything that might be out of place.

"An ATM," Alex said, "Give me your cell phone. I'm calling Brass. I want this ATM."

"Alex, we might be able to see him," I whispered . . . I handed over my cell phone. Alex was smiling . . . she called Brass. Alex was so comfortable with this investigation. She was so comfortable being in charge . . . this I was thankful for.

"Nick, it's going to take a few hours. I need to go shower and sleep. Warrick gave me his keys. We can get something to eat . . . get some sleep. We'll be able to think better," Alex coaxed.

"I'd like to go back to the lab," I replied . . . though sleep did sound good.

"Nick, please. You need to take care of yourself. Come with me . . . Warrick should be there too. Greg was going to crash there for a while to," Alex said as she hopped in the Denali. It was a difficult feat for her . . . she was short. Maybe five foot four. She was petite . . . small frame . . . fine bone structure. She had a lot of the same sharp features as Sara . . . but I was able to see Sara in almost everyone on the street,

"I didn't realize he was running a bed and breakfast," I replied, "Only until the ATM video gets to the lab."

* * *

Alex was sprawled across my bed. Her chest rose shallowly . . . she looked nearly comatose. I watched the sunrise. It was morning again. Sara had been gone for twenty four hours. It was getting hard to be hopeful.

Nick was sleeping on the couch. His sleep had been fitful. Alex let me sleep earlier . . . she said that she would stay awake while Nick was sleeping . . . I let her go to sleep four hours later. She was asleep well before her head touched the pillow. Greg was sleeping in a chair by the window. We had all been going straight for the better part of twenty four hours.

The ATM tape was at the lab. Catherine called me. I didn't dare wake them up yet. I knew that there would be hell to pay for this, but they needed their sleep. Catherine said that Grissom had finally fallen asleep in the break room. I enjoyed the silence. There had been so little silence in the last twenty four hours. I watched the sunrise . . . the brilliant oranges, pinks, and fuchsias invaded the horizon.

I wondered what was happening to Sara. I worried about her, but I knew that she would be able to hold her own. She was tough as nails. She was a fighter.

"Warrick, is the tape in yet?" Alex asked . . . she looked miserable. She only had been asleep for two hours.

"Alex, go back to sleep," I replied . . . my eyes never leaving the horizon.

"Warrick," Alex appealed.

"I'll drive you," I said relenting.

* * *

"Sara, you should eat something. You must be hungry," Glen said as he brushed my hair.

"Glen, I'm not hungry. I'm very tired. My arms hurt very badly from the handcuff," I said sweetly . . . anything to appeal to his kinder side.

"Sara, you need to promise that you will behave. You need to listen to me," Glen said sweetly . . . he kissed my cheek. I held back my anger. He uncuffed me . . . there were big, ugly, black bruises around my wrists. I rubbed then gently . . . Glen said that he would get some Tylenol to help me with the pain. He was treating me well . . . I was thankful that he hadn't raped me . . . or killed me. I was glad that his psychosis was bringing out a tender side of him. He seemed so different from the guy that held the gun to my head yesterday. He was buying Nick more time to find me. I would just need to be patient . . . to play his game for a little while longer.

* * *

"I'm got a license plate . . . guess what the name attached to it is?" Greg asked.

"Glen Hamilton," Warrick and I said simultaneously. That name had been turning up frequently . . . records from an army wholesale store . . . records from the apartment building adjacent to Sara's apartment building. The background check wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He was a computer technician at Bally's . . . he was the man that made sure that they computer slots and poker kept working. As a teenager, he was arrested for peeping into the window of a neighbor girl. He fit the profile. I had a feeling about him . . . he was the one. He was quiet, withdrawn, introspective . . . obsessive.

"Alex, are you coming?" Brass asked as he waited in the doorway. I damn well wanted to be there, "Nick, I want your gun. Grissom and Brown, yours too. None of you will be afforded the opportunity to shoot."

"I'm ready," I replied. The butterflies in my stomach turned into a turbulent mess. I followed Brass . . . I could hear everyone else fall into line behind me.

A brigade of police cars and SWAT vehicles made their way into Henderson. I sat there nervously. I told Brass the bulletproof vests weren't necessary . . . Glen probably wouldn't do anything stupid. He forced me into one any ways. I watched Nick in the backseat. He was fidgeting horribly.

We pulled up to a small ranch house. It was well kept . . . looked just like new.

"Let's go," Brass said . . . I pulled myself out of the car . . . Nick following close behind me.

I watched the SWAT team rush the house. I watched them breakdown the door. They all backed out quickly. One of the men said that Glen had a gun to Sara's head. I said I would go. I was the closest thing to a negotiator that they had right now. I walk into the house was unnerving. I was prepared to give Glen anything to fulfill my promise to Nick. I didn't come this far to lose. He pointed the gun between me and Sara. I could see the fear in her eyes . . . I'm sure my expression didn't differ much from hers.

"Glen, you don't want to do this," I said . . . my voice was audibly shaking. I walked closer to him . . . until he told me to stop, "Glen, you love Sara. I know you love Sara."

"I love her. She loves me too," Glen said frantically . . . trying to think of his next move.

"Sara loves you too, right?" I said . . . Sara frantically nodded her head unable to get the words out of her mouth.

"Glen, let Sara go. You don't want to hurt her," I said inching closer . . . holding my hand out for the gun. I wanted the damn gun in my hand right now.

"I don't want to hurt her," Glen said . . . his eyes filling with tears, "I don't want to go to jail."

"Glen, let Sara go. I'll do whatever I can to make it better," I said . . . I rested my hand on Glen's arm . . . the arm he had around Sara's neck. I could hear Nick . . . trying to get to her. I knew he was in the doorway watching . . . probably being held back by at least two members of the SWAT team.

"Glen, let Sara go . . . Let me trade places with her. You don't want to hurt the woman you love, right?" I asked him. I watched his grip on Sara loosen . . . he pushed her away and quickly put the gun to my temple . . . wrapped his arm around tightly around my throat, "Nick, take her away from here."

I screamed in a voice that didn't sound like it was mine. I felt nauseated. I wasn't sure how the hell I could talk myself out of this one. But I knew that I brought Sara home.

* * *

Sara ran into my arms . . . trying to pull me down the hallway . . . out of the house . . . away from Glen. My eyes locked in on Alex. She was frozen in his arms. She had traded her life for that of Sara's. She screamed at us to run. She knew that she was going to be murdered. I let Sara pull me out of the room. We ran outside . . . Sara collapsed on the ground. I took her into my arms . . . Grissom and Warrick tried to pull us farther away from the house. They wanted us as far from danger as possible.

"He has Alex," I said to Brass . . . he yelled at the SWAT team to reassemble . . . his negotiator was in trouble.

I threw my body over Sara when I heard the shots. Three shots . . . probably two into Alex and one into Glen's head. I felt sick. I felt responsible. Brass and I ran back into the house. Grissom yelled at me not to go.

Alex stood in the room . . . the gun still in her hands . . . she was shaking . . . the tears were running down her face. Glen was slumped on the ground. She was trembling so violently that the gun dropped to the floor . . . she collapsed. Glen wasn't moving . . . the hole in his chest was gaping . . . the blood spewed onto the ground.

"I shot him," Alex said, "I've never shot anyone before."

"Nick, get her the hell out of here," Brass said as he went to the body.

Alex let me guide her out of the house. She was sobbing . . . still shaking. Sara hugged her . . . Sara was crying. Sara was thanking her . . . Sara asked if Glen was dead. Alex nodded. Warrick took Alex into his arms . . . he held her as she cried. Her and Sara had both come so close to dying today.

"Thank you for finding me," Sara whispered as she hugged me . . . she begged me not to let her go.

I all I could do is tell her that I loved her . . . that I needed her. I was ready to take her home.

* * *

"I'm going back to LA. It's safer there," Alex said with a laugh. It had been four days since I went home with Nick. Alex had stayed with us . . . it was the least I could do to repay her for saving my life.

I asked her to tell me the story of the last few days. She told me about how much everyone needed me to come home . . . she did everything that she could to bring me home. She told me about how she met Nick a few years ago. Alex told me how lucky I was.

I told her that I knew I was lucky. I was luckier than anyone else on earth. Lucky that I had only been abducted . . . lucky that Glen wasn't ready to harm a hair on my head. He didn't rape me . . . he didn't beat me . . . he didn't kill me. He just took care of me.

Brass echoed that remark. They search of the house was gruesome. The walls of Glen's office were plastered with news articles mentioning my name. There were hundreds of photographs of me.

"You should come to visit some time," I said as I watched Alex sign a few papers that Grissom had given her . . . the ones that said she wouldn't sue the department if she were to incur bodily harm while working. Grissom said that it was a technicality. He asked Alex to stay. Alex said that she wasn't crazy. Grissom asked if he could call her about future cases. Alex said that he could do that once the department got a fulltime negotiator.

"Next time I visit I want it to be purely for pleasure," Alex replied smiling.

"Allie, thank you," Nick said as we walked her outside to where a cab was waiting for her.

"Anytime. Good luck . . . I expect an invitation to the wedding," Alex said as she handed her luggage to the cabbie.

"Allie, take care of yourself," I yelled as she got into the cab . . . she waved. The cab sped off.

"Sara, it's over. Let's go home . . . it's all over," Nick whispered in my ear . . . he kissed my neck. It felt good to be home . . . Nick felt like home.

* * *

I'll always be in debt to Alex . . . our whole department will be. I watched her cab pull away. I had thanked her . . . offered her a job. She said no way . . . it was time for her to go home.

Catherine said that I should take a vacation. I needed some time for my wounds to heal. I began to question the evidence . . . whether I was seeing it correctly. I was so inept when it came to people . . . what if the evidence was really in the people. What if things were as Alex said it was . . . the crime is about the people and how they tie to the evidence . . . people and evidence worked together.

Catherine said that I needed to learn from this. Moreover, I needed to let go of her. I needed to be happy that she was happy. That was easier said than done. Sara had run to Nick . . . she only ran to me when Nick went to see if Alex was dead. Sara told Nick to go . . . he did everything right. I was jealous.

Catherine said to be thankful that Sara was okay . . . that Alex was okay. Catherine told me to go find peace in myself . . . to stop clinging to a woman that I had pushed away. Catherine said that it would take time . . . it would hurt, but she promised to be there for me. Catherine booked a cruise to Belize for us . . . Eddie would take care of Lindsey. Catherine said the bugs were bigger below the equator. I accepted.

FIN


End file.
